


Bump in the Night

by h0ldthiscat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ldthiscat/pseuds/h0ldthiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder is struck with sudden urge to recapture their original incarnations, their first selves, those careless fools who didn't know each other but were more sure of themselves than anything else. Now, he thinks, he’s a stranger but he would know Scully in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bump in the Night

"One pepperoni and mushroom, hot and ready," Mulder announces as he opens the door to the office space they now share with about 15 other paper-pushing agents.

Scully looks up, her glasses glowing blue with the glare from her computer monitor. "Oh, thank god. I'm starving." 

She fishes seven dollars out of her wallet but he waves a hand. "No, it's on me."

"Mulder, come on." But he fixes her with a look, so she reluctantly stuffs the bills back where they came from. She takes her glasses off, rubs the bridge of her nose, and goes to his desk, cocking a hip where wood laminate meets metal as she reaches for a slice. “What did Kersh say?”

He shrugs. “Gross misconduct, last warning, blah blah blah.”

“You don't seem to be taking this very seriously.”

“There are worse things to be feared than Assistant Director Kersh.”

“Such as?”

He can tell she’s indulging him and he takes the bait. “Vampires. Boogeymen. Things that go bump in the night.” 

She lifts a brow. “Good to see you're in the holiday spirit. Halloween comes but once a year, Mulder.”

“Is it the 31st already?” 

“Don't pretend like you've forgotten.”

“Between being stuck in the Bermuda Triangle and getting my ass handed to me I haven't had time to look at the calendar.” He knows exactly what day it is. 

Scully shuts her eyes and smirks, a quiet admonition since her mouth is full of pizza. “Did you get drinks?” she asks when she's finished the bite. 

He shakes his head. She moves back to her desk to get her wallet. “Coke? Ginger ale?” 

“Whatever they have,” he says with a shrug. “Watch out for the boogeyman.” She gives a smile and heads out the door. 

While he’d always rather be traipsing across the country, exploring misty little towns with her in a dull-colored sedan, he's thankful to be able to work with Scully in any capacity. He’s begun to feel a nag of jealousy and possession now that they work with other people around them all day. He sees the praise Scully gets for her work, how efficient she is at her job, no matter the task. He worries that if she stays here much longer, someone will snatch her away to work on VC or the executive track. 

She's too good of an agent to be working here monitoring phone calls to low-level mob bosses. He's too good too, but she's better. 

He can feel things changing between them. Not for better, not for worse, just changing. He doesn't want them to. He always wants to be the man who’d stopped their car on the side of the road and spray painted an X on the pavement. He wants her to stay that kohl-eyed girl who'd laughed in his face in the rain forever. 

They're still those people, he knows they are. He'd seen them on the ice in Antarctica, when the breath she barely had left was used to tease him, when his lips had touched hers for the briefest of moments. They had touched for much longer last week, on that boat in the middle of nowhere. 

God, had it really happened? She'd been so soft beneath his hands, the material of her red dress catching on his hangnail, her pulse racing beneath her temple. She had been so perfectly Scully, even though she wasn't. He loved her. He loves her, in all her incarnations. 

Mulder is struck with sudden urge to recapture their original incarnations, their first selves, those careless fools who didn't know each other but were more sure of themselves than anything else. Now, he thinks, he’s a stranger but he would know Scully in the dark. 

With a childlike grin, he gets down on his hands and knees and hides under his desk. It's not comfortable; his long limbs will cramp if she's not back from the vending machine in the next thirty seconds, but the effortless laugh he knows she's going to emit will make it all worth it. 

Almost a full minute later, he hears the office door swing open and the click of Scully’s heels on the tiled floor. 

“Mulder?” Her steps slow, but there is no worry in her tone. “Bathroom, probably.”

She thinks out loud, which he finds unbearably endearing. Ever since he'd almost lost her last year, everything she does amazes him. He hears the rustling of her skirt, the crack of a soda opening, and then she pulls out his desk chair and takes a seat, not noticing him waiting just out of sight. 

Mulder holds his breath, counts one, two, three… then reaches out and grabs her ankle. Scully lets out a strangled scream and is on her feet faster than he thought was possible for a human to move. 

“Touch me again and I'll shoot!” she shouts, her voice unwavering. 

“Scully, it's me!” He sticks his head out from under the desk, raising his hands in surrender. “It's me!”

“Oh my god, Mulder, I almost shot you!” Her gun is away in seconds but the fear in her eyes is unmistakable. 

“It's okay, I can take it,” he says sheepishly as he gets to his feet. “I have taken it, remember?”

Her voice is that high-pitched one she uses when she is out of disbelief for whatever he’s done now. “What the hell were you doing down there anyway? I mean what kind of stupid prank is that?” 

“I was trying to make you laugh,” he explains, realizing now how stupid it sounds. 

“Tell me a joke then! Jesus, Mulder…” She brushes her hair out of her eyes and tucks a piece behind her ear. 

He looks down at his shoes. “Sorry.” 

She takes a sip of the Sprite she brought back from the vending machine and her hand shakes. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking her hand in his to steady it. 

“I'm fine,” she says, but she doesn't pull away. She stares at her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. He wonders if he should kiss her now, if he'd get a smack across the jaw like he had when he'd kissed the Scully with bright red lips and finger waves in her hair. 

“Happy Halloween,” he says lamely. 

She smirks, then hums. Almost a laugh. He’ll take it. She steps closer to him and rests her head against his chest, tucked under his chin. He prays she can't hear his heart thrumming. She does not disentangle their hands; instead she rubs her thumb against his finger, almost swaying. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks into her hair, his heart screaming to say something, anything, despite his brain telling him to shut his big mouth. 

She pulls away, clearing her throat. “Sorry.”

He scratches his head, not able to meet her eyes. “For a second there I thought Spooky Mulder had an invite to the Halloween Ball.” 

Her expression is unreadable when she smiles and says, “Maybe next year.”


End file.
